Beached

You lie on the beach, just out of reach
of the waves.

The storm has passed and the sun is warm.
Eyes closed, you savor its warmth.
You are filled with peace.

The tide will rise.
New storms will come.
This you know.

But just now, you lie on your sandy heaven,
breathing deeply in. Breathing deeply out.
A strange creature,
beached in this moment of perfection
by choice.

About this poem

A companion piece to the essay I wrote early this morning.

Tom